


Competition

by ninzz



Category: Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bodily Fluids, Comeplay, Fingerfucking, Forest Sex, Hair-pulling, Implied Underage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Running, Underage Smoking, bottom!Tom, wow what a lot of kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzz/pseuds/ninzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Chris and Tom are cross country runners from rival schools. Tom is the established champion and Chris the upstart transfer from another district. They run into each other while training in the woods and disdain and anger quickly turn to lust with lots of fucking each other against trees.</p><p>therefore I took it and ran with it.</p><p>Chris is the new kid, Tom befriends him. That is, until he finds out that Chris plans on competing in the cross-country. Tom wants to win his friendship back to throw him off his game, and boy, does he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velociraptor_Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velociraptor_Hands/gifts).



> Jesus fuck this is the dirtiest thing I ever wrote and gosh it has some terrible puns in it
> 
> good god
> 
> Anyway, enjoy it hun! I'm sorry it took me so long, but writing porn drains me a lot and so it takes me a while.

Tom felt the ribbon snap against his stomach as he sailed past the finish line, well clear of any of the other competitors. He looked back as he crossed it, smiling gleefully at the others behind him. This was the third race he had won this week – but he would tell you he had in fact only taken part in three this week, so it was more impressive than it sounded. It was a well-known fact that he never lost a race these days. Everyone called him ‘Fast Tom’, especially his peers in school, as they used it not only to describe his running ability, but also his sex life. He insisted that the rumours about him that went about were not true _at all, thankyouverymuch._ The nickname eventually caught on with the adult community, much to his chagrin.

Of course, he had not simply ascended to this level in the running game without his fair share of failures; indeed, he had lost a number of races and broken a few bones. Over the years he had practiced and pushed himself, this year more than most, as he was due to take part in a cross-country marathon. If he won – which he would, he told himself – the rewards would be beyond anything he had gained thus far.

Tom plopped himself down on the grass beside the track to rest, arms draped over his knees. He grabbed his water bottle and near-emptied it in several pulls, some of the water managing to escape in his haste. A sluggish gust of horrid warm wind blew past at that moment, and a chill skittered across his sweat-slicked skin and danced down his back. He looked over to the other side of the track, to the stands, and saw a heavily muscled, fairly young-looking man sitting there, watching. He had long blonde hair, which was tied up in a messy bun. He didn’t look like any of the other students at his school, but he didn’t look like a dad either. Maybe he was a transfer he hadn’t heard about?

Tom realised he was staring at this man, but it seemed that he too had been watching Tom the entire time, from when he started running up until this moment. He stared for a few more moments, blue eyes boring into Tom’s own. He then turned his face downward, stood up, trotted down the steps, and went into the gym hurriedly. Tom dismissed this strange incident, instead turning his gaze to the cars driving past on the highway on the other side of the field, draining the last of his water pensively.

The next day Tom saw him again, this time in Literature class. He was seated across the room, and seemed content to spend the entire lesson watching Tom. It made him a little nervous, if he was being honest, but he put it down to a healthy curiosity.

Three days later, Tom encountered the man again, and he seemed much less distant than the day on the track, and considerably _less_ creepy than the day before.

He approached Tom in the cafeteria at lunchtime none too subtly, cutting the line of mostly younger kids to stand next to him.

“Saw you run the other day, you were good,” he said absently. ‘ _He speaks!’_ Tom thought to himself.

“Thanks,” Tom answered, looking at him and willing his eyes to meet with his own. They did.

_Good god, your eyes, Jesus fuck-_ “What was your name? Never did get it,” Tom forced himself to ask.

“Chris,” he replied simply.

“I haven’t seen you about before, Chris. Are you new here?” Tom turned on his ‘charming smile’ - which had powers beyond that of any mere mortal, according to the entire female populace of the school.

“Yeah, I am. I’m from Australia, if you’re wondering. A lot of the people here seem to think I’m from Wales, which is actually kind of embarrassing.”

Tom bought his meal and waited for Chris to choose his own, then gestured to an empty table. Chris’s eyebrows shot up.

“What?” Tom asked, setting his tray down on the table.

“No-one’s been openly nice to me yet, you’re the first one to even try to make friends with me.”

“Oh. Well I’ll get first dibs, then, I suppose?” He laughed. “ _My friendses, no one can have my friendses,”_ he rasped, in a near-perfect imitation of Smeagol’s voice.

“God, you like Lord of The Rings? We’re going to get along _very_ well.”

Chris sat down and immediately tore into his lunch of coronation chicken and rice like a man starved, while Tom pierced his Capri-Sun and sucked on the straw, watching with a smile in his eyes.

“I meant to ask just now, why is it kind of embarrassing that people think you’re from Wales?” Tom asked. Chris looked up from his plate and put his fork down very seriously.

“In my experience, they’re quite nice, as long as you’re not a tour-“

 “Sheep-shagging.”

Tom nearly choked on his Capri-Sun.

“What?!”

“Sheep-shagging,” Chris repeated. “They think I shag sheep. As if we don’t have women over there.”

“…Right.”

“It’s the New Zealanders that do that, not Australians.” Tom let out a squeal of laughter so sudden and so loud it scared some first-formers on the table across from them, and elicited a few strange glares from the teachers on the other side of the room. A smirk spread across Chris’s face that slowly turned into a grin, and then he couldn’t contain his own laughter anymore.

 

The next Tuesday, they met again - although they had spent a great deal of lunchtimes and breaks together over the last week, it hadn’t been enough time to actually talk - and spent the day getting to know one-another – by blowing off school and going to the park across the block instead. Chris offered Tom a joint, which he accepted. He wouldn’t normally, unless he felt comfortable and safe with whoever he was with – which was telling. They shared it and relaxed on the soft grass together. Chris found out that Tom was absolutely besotted with the works of Shakespeare.

“No wonder you were the only person smiling when we were reading ‘Hamlet’ in Lit class, then,” he said, smirking. “Hard-on for Hamlet. I’m poetic, too, see?”

“Shut up!” Tom said. “I can’t help that I have an appreciation for classic literature, can I? It’s way better than E.L. James, anyway – what all the trendy kids are reading these days.” Chris snorted.

“Bet it gave you some ideas, though.”

“I suppose it did, but I felt that it wasn’t a very healthy representation of… _that_ kind of relationship.”

“And you would know what _is_ healthy representation of the BDSM lifestyle?”

“Well, no. But in my defence, I can speculate. And it is _not_ that. Anyway, we’re getting off the subject.” He smacked the ground with his hand. “What do you like most that you can think of at this moment?”

Apparently, Chris loved surfing, of all things.

“That’s so stereotypical!” he squealed. Chris punched him in the shoulder.

“Hey, I like the things I like. Don’t knock me for ‘em.” Chris held out the joint, offering the last of it. Tom took it and sucked in a lungful of smoke.

“What other things do you like?” he asked.

“I like you.”

Tom breathed out, closing his eyes. He looked at Chris and smiled lazily. The words were out before he could stop himself:

“I like you too.”

_Fuck._

This easy friendship didn’t last long, however. When Tom found out that Chris was planning on putting himself forward for the next cross-country race, in which all the best candidates from each county were elected based on ability, the camaraderie they had developed quickly disintegrated. It culminated in a massive argument about ‘home territory’ and ‘stealing thunder’ that ended in both of them storming away angrily. As it turned out, it was the very same one that Tom himself was hoping to compete in, and apparently, all bets were on Chris to be put forward instead. He dismissed this as a rumour being spread to try and throw him off his game, so he asked around to hear who the general populace thought would get through this year for himself.

It wasn’t Tom.

The majority of parents in the community even said Chris would get through. He wondered to himself where this had all come from if even he hadn’t seen him run – how could anyone else know? Tom’s sister Emma solved this problem, telling him at the dinner table on Friday night – two days after the argument.

“Yeah, his brother Liam is going around telling everyone that he’s the fastest runner he’s ever seen,” she said around a forkful of rice and chicken.

That put his mind at ease, because parents always thought their children were good at everything.

“So, Tom, do you think you can outrun this…’Australian Bolt’?” his mother asked him, smirking at her own joke.

“I think I can,” he smiled to himself. “I have an advantage.”

“What’s that?” Emma asked.

“I have the home advantage, don’t I?”

 

With that Tom decided to train harder than he ever had before, even enlisting Emma to time him running round the block. She would sit on the bonnet of their car, and he would run around, as fast as he could. Each time, he managed to shave off some more time. Emma had an idea as Tom made his third round of the block in under five minutes that Saturday morning.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Tom. Maybe you should be friendly with Chris, you know?” she suggested, stopping the timer as Tom ground to a halt in front of their house, panting.

“What do you mean?” he gasped.

“As in, appeal to his interests, maybe try and throw him off by being nice to him.”

“Maybe you’re onto something, there, Emma. Do you think I should?”

“Definitely. The last thing he would expect is _friendly_ competition.”

 

So, on Sunday, Tom went for a run through the forest a mile or so outside the suburbs where he lived, fully expecting to run into Chris – possibly literally. He ran at a leisurely pace, following the well-worn path through it. The forest consisted mostly of deciduous trees, though some evergreens found their way in, too. The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, leaving speckles of green-tinted light on the ground, lifting Tom’s mood further.

Before he knew it, he was at the opposite side of the forest, and so he circled back.

He got to the other side, and there was no sign of Chris anywhere. He ran back to his house, resolve shattered.

 

What he didn’t know was that Chris _was_ there in the forest the entire time, staying far enough behind and far enough back in the trees that he wouldn’t be seen. He was watching, in order to evaluate Tom’s prowess.

 

The next week was largely silent on both sides, but the voting was being cast that week and the following one, and the race the week after that, and as a result, tensions were high. The two pointedly avoided one another for the entire week, and people were starting to talk, some speculating that there was a huge disagreement between them, and the more forthright students said it was because they were fucking each other before and the competition got to be too much and they fell out as a result.

 

In any case the speculations and rumours did not deter Tom, but he did start to worry towards the end of the week, as time was running out. That Friday evening, he went into the forest again, hoping to find Chris training there.

This time, he was. It surprised Tom to find him, after so many times not seeing him. They met on the path and stared dumbly at one another for a few moments.

Chris was the first to break the silence.

“Is there any reason you keep coming here, expecting to see me? I thought you’d thrown our friendship aside in favour of the race,” he said. Anger was evident in his tone and expression.

“I didn’t-“

“Sure, you ‘forgot’, you ‘got distracted.’”

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me anymore,” Tom tried.

“I don’t, not anymore.” He sighed, searching for a way to express how he felt. “I’m angry, Tom. Really angry.”

Tom took the few steps needed to fill the space between them and crushed his lips to Chris’s. He grasped at his shirt, unbuttoning it, and moaned into his mouth, trying to encourage him to respond.

Chris relaxed into it after a short time, weaving his hands in Tom’s hair and before he could register what was happening, Chris bit down on his tongue hard.

Tom pulled away with a yelp.

“You bit me!”

“I did.” Chris smiled mischievously.

“Why?”

“Got to teach you a lesson somehow, don’t I?”

Tom appeared conflicted, but before he could reach a certain decision, Chris had him by the neck and had pushed him against the nearest tree, winding him. Chris then pressed his mouth to Tom’s ear, and told him:

“When you were looking for me, I was here the entire time. Every time.”

“What were you doing?”

“Watching you. I’ll admit, one time, I jerked myself off, and had to bite down on my tongue so you wouldn’t hear me.”

“Oh my God,” Tom whispered. The admission sent a jolt of arousal straight to his cock. Suddenly, he made a connection in his mind. “Can I ask..?”

“Shoot,” Chris answered, smirking.

“Why did you leave so quickly that day I was training?” Tom asked, panting.

“I had to leave. Seeing you run. It got me so hot,” Chris rasped, playing with the hem of Tom’s shorts.

“Oh,” Tom responded. Suspicion confirmed. He saw an opportunity here, and took it. “Tell me about it.”

Chris slid his hand down Tom’s shorts and got a generous handful ofhis arse. “I went to the bathroom. The showers- God, you feel good.”

“Mmmm, tell me,” Tom hummed into Chris’s ear. “Tell me how it felt.”

Chris allowed his fingers to dance down further and started to tease Tom’s opening.

“I finger-fucked myself,” Chris admitted. “I finger-fucked myself and I thought of you, running, and how well you could _fuck_ me _.”_

“Mmmh!”

“I came all over myself, just thinking of you. Good thing I was in the shower. Even better that no-one else was there.” Tom shuddered, letting out a pathetic little whimper. “Like that thought, huh?” Chris questioned, using the pad of his index finger to play with the little pucker of nerves even more.

“I have – ngh – one last question.”

“And what’s that?”

“Are you ever gonna stop talking and just _do_ me?”

Chris rumbled out “ _Jesus.”_

He withdrew his hand and set about exposing as much of Tom’s skin as he feasibly could, breaking a few buttons off his shirt in his hurry. Chris pushed him against the tree harder and hoisted his slender legs around his own waist, moving in for an aggressive kiss. Tom caught on immediately, wrapping his arms around Chris’s neck, and began to roll his hips as best he could. He could feel Chris’s hardness through his shorts, and gasped when his own pressed into the other’s stomach.

Chris caught Tom’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down none too lightly, causing him to moan into Chris’s mouth. He then began to nibble at the redhead’s delicious jawline, moving steadily downwards. He mouthed at Tom’s collarbone, stopping now and then to suck dark marks into his fair skin, and managed to pull the shirt aside to latch his teeth onto a pebbled nipple. Tom let out a cry, arching his back.

Chris lifted his head and looked at him. The blue of his eyes was almost completely engulfed by black arousal, his cheeks slightly pink.

“You seem to like biting,” Chris observed. Tom nodded halfheartedly, as if he felt a certain guilt for admitting it. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. If it feels good, do it.”

Chris then returned to Tom’s nipple, alternating between suckling and nibbling on it, mirroring his actions with his hand on the other.

Some not-so-small part of Tom decided to take his advice, and he kicked his shoes off - with a little bit of difficulty –

“What _are_ you doing?”

–and pushed Chris’s sweatpants down with his feet.

“That’s not going to work,” Chris teased.

“Oh, really? Put me down.”

Chris made no move to follow his orders.

“Put me down,” Tom breathed in his ear, “Or I’ll bite you. Hard, make you bleed.” Chris paused for a moment, as if considering the sincerity of Tom’s threat, before lowering him to the forest floor. Immediately, the redhead dropped to his knees in front of Chris and pulled down his boxers, allowing his swollen cock to spring free.

“Mmm, look at you,” Tom sighed, looking up at Chris, all doe-eyed and innocent-looking. Except Chris knew he was anything but – if his reputation was anything to go by.

“I could just eat you up,” he continued, unexpectedly taking the head of Chris’s leaking cock into his warm, wet mouth. Chris fell back against the tree, slipping out - _ow those were his teeth, shit -_ and Tom moved forwards. He didn’t even pause, instead swallowing Chris down in one movement, earning a strangled moan that sent a few birds frantically flying out from the trees.

Tom began to suck Chris in earnest, swirling his tongue around the head – a move that, in his experience, always rendered a man speechless. Or, if not that, it earned very pleased noises. Chris threaded his hands through Tom’s hair and guided him for a short while, then pushed him off. Tom looked up at him, surprised. His lips were pink and slightly swollen already, cheeks flushed, his hair all messed up. The sight was _delicious._

“What?” Tom asked him.

“God, I wanna fuck you,” Chris answered. “Up.”

Tom stood and slid his arms around Chris’s waist, leaning in to kiss him languidly. Chris allowed this, breaking away from him only for a moment to push Tom’s shorts and boxers down, prompting him to step out of them, and while he was doing that, Chris retrieved a pocket-sized bottle of lube from his shorts’ pocket – he had actually expected this to happen and was delighted that he had thought ahead. He squeezed a small amount onto his fingers and spread it over Tom’s hole. He moved back into the kiss while testing the waters with one finger, pushing gently to see if Tom was ready - which he was, if his answering groan was anything to go by. He took an index finger easily, so Chris added another, scissoring them. Tom sighed at the stretch, soon asking for _another_.

Chris obliged. Soon even that wasn’t enough for him and he choked out: “I want your cock inside me, please, Chris!”

He wasted no time in doing as Tom asked, turning him to face away, then pushing him up against the tree. Chris quickly slicked himself up, and pressed the head of his cock against Tom’s waiting hole. Tom moaned wantonly, nails tearing at the bark of the tree.

“Fuck, now! Do it, you _bastard!_ ”

Chris laughed, the sound a rumble in his chest, and pushed in, although slower than Tom wanted him to – just to tease him. He started to move languidly, experimenting by shifting his weight a little every few thrusts. After trying a few different angles, Chris found one that Tom reacted favourably to.

“There, there! _There, yes!”_

“Fuck… you like that?”

Chris could feel the coil of his orgasm building up slowly but surely, a familiar burn in his thighs and groin. He had a couple of minutes left at this rate, and he was determined to make Tom come before he did. Judging by the obscene sounds he was making, that wouldn’t be too difficult.

He began to stroke the redhead’s cock in time with his thrusts, making him cry out.

“Fuck, m’close, Chris…”

Chris took that as a cue to stop holding back and so he grabbed a handful of Tom’s curls to hold him in the position he was in, using his hair as a hold to fuck into him relentlessly.

Tom let out pitiful little whines as he neared his peak, pushing back against Chris.

“I’m… I… Ah! Gonna….!”

Seconds after that, Tom came, painting stripes of come on the tree bark and on Chris’s hand, keening loudly.

Chris fucked him through it, and then his own climax hit him hard, triggered by the other’s inner walls rippling around him.

Tom felt like he was being utterly filled up by Chris’s seed deep inside him, shuddering at the heat of it. When Chris finally pulled out he could feel it trickling down his thighs.

Chris stepped back and marvelled at the sight before him; of Tom completely fucked-out and dazed by his orgasm. He spotted the traces of come on his thighs, and worried at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Tom wondered what Chris was doing, and began to turn around, but Chris ordered him to stop and stay where he was. Tom froze in his tracks, and turned back to face the tree, bracing himself on it.

“This won’t do,” Chris observed. “Look at the mess we’ve made of you.”

The next thing Tom knew, he was on his knees, actually licking his come away from Tom’s body.

“Jesus, Chris. What are you-“

“Shhh, let me clean you up.”

Tom relaxed into the pliant tongue that seemed to be trying to work him open all over again, sighing softly.

“Are you planning on fucking me again?”

“No, I’m not.”

Chris finished cleaning Tom up, and stood up. Tom collected his clothes and set about putting them back on, as did Chris. Tom smoothed down his hair, and laughed. Chris beckoned, and pressed his lips to Tom’s. They parted on agreeable terms, both leaving the forest with a smile on their faces.

 

Three days later, Tom approached Chris at lunchbreak and asked him:

“What are we gonna do when the votes are counted and one of us doesn’t get through?”

Chris considered Tom’s question for a moment.

“I’ll just have to fuck you harder than last time - as revenge for the fact that I didn’t get through and you did. Or, maybe the other way round, depending on how the votes turn out.” He winked.

Tom flushed scarlet at the idea, but a small part of him hoped that he would get through and Chris would take out his frustration on him.

 

The votes had been counted, and against all the bets, Tom had gotten through for the cross-country.

Later that day he was sitting on the benches outside thinking about what had happened over the past week, and then someone was behind him, a familiar voice growling in his ear.

“Meet me after training today. I’m gonna make good on my promise and fuck all that pride right out of you.”

Tom shuddered. _He couldn’t wait._


End file.
